


Lifetimes

by Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel AU - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dark!Steve, F/M, Gen, Horror, Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic/pseuds/Chris_Evans_Indian_Fanfic
Summary: Chris wakes you up at night to escape, or so you think.Warning - Horror, mutilation, Dark!SteveI don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but AO3 & Tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor) & Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/You, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers x you, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

You saw Chris’ message flash across the screen- **_Still at the party. Will be late. Go to sleep baby. I will join you later_** 😉

Keeping the phone on the bedside table, you sighed. You were hoping to cuddle Chris as you slept, especially since the last few nights had been _strange_ … to say the least.

Chris was the last person on earth to believe in paranormal activity, but you were sure something weird was going on in the house. It started with you spotting fleeting shadows across the rooms which made you feel uneasy. Then, lately, you had started feeling as if someone was dragging you away from Chris as you both slept together. One night, you swore you felt a hand creep up on your waist, pulling you towards the edge of the bed. At first, you had frozen with fear, but then, you had screamed and flailed your limbs, waking up Chris. Even though he had managed to calm you down, he had dismissed your concerns, simply stating, “It was a nightmare baby.”

As you settled in for the night, you sent a silent prayer to the lord above to keep you safe till Chris’ return. Closing your eyes, you hoped for sleep to come early.

…

“Honey,” you heard the slightest whisper of your despised nickname, “wake up. We gotta go.” You groan in response, your head still filled with sleep. “C'mon wake up. Let’s go,” urged your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Chris can’t this wait?” you grumbled, irritated. “No honey it can’t,” he whispered back. “Stop calling me that. You know I hate that nickname,” you huffed waking up. Rubbing your eyes, you tried to find your mobile in the dim light of the room. As you reached for the light switch, Chris’ pale, cold hand held yours, “We don’t need the light.”

“But I need my phone, and to find it I…” “You don’t need your mobile,” Chris interrupted you, “ **Let’s get out of here** ,” he whispered, his tone urgent.

“What’s going on Chris? You sound upset,” voicing your concern, you stood up, raising your hands as if to hug him. He jerked backwards, then headed for the door, “You were right. There’s something unusual going on here. We have to escape. Now.”

You noted the urgency in his voice as a dull, heavy weight settled in your stomach. Unwilling to further question him, you donned your jacket and followed him. 

Chris was already in the garage as you tried to keep up with him. Before you left the house, you heard the soft buzzing of your mobile from somewhere nearby. That’s strange, you had kept your phone on the bedside table before going to sleep. Shuffling a few cushions around, you saw your mobile hidden deep in the crack between the sofa cushions. 

**_honk honk_** “C'MON! LET’S GO!” You jumped at Chris’s loud exclamation. “But my phone…” you tried to tell him weakly. “FUCK YOUR GODDAMN PHONE. LET’S JUST FUCKING GET OUT OF HERE!”

Your entire body started shaking uncontrollably. You had seen Chris in bad moods, but none as hysterical as now. Luckily, your fingers pried the device free just in time as you heard his car door shut with a slam. 

Hiding the mobile in your pyjama pocket, you half ran, half stumbled towards the garage in the darkness. You could make out Chris’ fuming outline next to the car as you tried to find the door he held open for you. Strangely enough, he wanted you to sit behind the driver’s seat, instead of besides him as usual. But again, you chose not to question him.

The car’s engine came to life as he started driving. After a while, you gathered enough courage to ask him, “Wh-what happened Chris?” He didn’t reply, instead, he increased the speed of the car to almost 100/kmph.

You tried again, “Chris pl-please, tell me wh-what’s going o-on? I-I am sc-scared… Pl-please.” Still no reaction. Sobbing, you kept your hand on his shoulder, seeking comfort. With a soft gasp, you withdrew your hand as soon as it had touched him. Chris’ shoulder was ice-cold. “Ch-chris?” “Shut-up and keep your head down,” came the harsh command.

A warning bell rang at the back of your mind. Chris’ voice sounded… different. It was strained, cracked, almost as if he was faking it. But this was your Chris, right? He seemed familiar. As you tried to see his reflection, his voice boomed in the car again, “I TOLD YOU TO KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN!!” You jumped on your seat, your heart beating in your throat as you followed his instruction, praying for this nightmare to end soon.

Long, agonising moments later, the car finally came to a stop. “Do you see the edge of that cliff? Go there and wait for me.” You nodded and stepped out of the car. Before you could turn to take a look at him, Chris had already sped up ahead.

You pulled your jacket closer as you stepped towards the edge, the chilly midnight air nipping at your skin. You looked down, seeing nothing but the smooth stone of the cliff disappearing right beneath you. Glancing around the isolated mountain road, you hoped to catch a glimpse of Chris. Soon, you saw headlights facing the edge of the road. Clouds cleared in the sky and light from the full moon bounced off the asphalt road as you watched on. You could make out the faint outline of the car as it neared the edge, coming too close. Before you could utter a word, the car went over the threshold and down the cliff. The sound of crashing metal deafening in your ears. 

You placed a hand on your mouth, swallowing your scream, too afraid to make a sound in the still night.

The buzzing phone in your pocket demanded your attention. Maybe you could call for help? With trembling hands, you fished the device from your pocket, and saw Chris’ face on the screen. Accepting the video call, your heart sank as you saw Chris, still at the party. “I am so so sorry babe! The party is still going on. I promise you I will come… Where are you babe? Why aren’t you at home?” your boyfriend stared at you in confusion. “Ch-chris, he-help m-me,” you stammered.

His eyes widened at your terrified state, “Baby where are you? Tell me. I will come and pick you up right now. Baby? Talk to me." 

"He-help,” you could only manage between sobs. Even though your mind willed you to move, to speak, you were frozen on the spot. You knew it was too late.

“Honey?” That same cracked voice spoke, _he_ spoke. 

“Who’s that behind you? Baby talk to me. Who’s tha… Holy fuck! Run y/n!! Y/N! Are you listening to me? RUN!”

He grabbed your phone and crushed it in his palm. Chris’ last words hung in the air as you finally looked at your kidnapper.

His electric-blue eyes were wide with lunacy as the corner of his lips turned upwards in a sneer. The dirty blonde hair and muscular physique just added to his terrifying persona. But it was the gruesome, deep scar that ran across his sunken left cheek, that made your blood curdle with fear. 

Instinctively, you tried to take a step back, almost losing your balance at the edge of the cliff.

“Wh-who a-are…?” you tried to ask, but your trembling body failed you.

“Who am I? What am I doing here? What do I want? That’s what you want to know right?” he asked in a mocking tone, shifting his weight from one leg to another, “WHO AM I? WHAT AM I DOING HERE? WHAT DO I WANT?!" 

You flinched as he suddenly raised his voice.

"Ooooooo you think I am unstable now don’t you?!” his sing-song voice was back, “Eh? DON’T YOU?!!!" 

Tears spilled on your cheeks. You didn’t want to die, not right now, not like this. 

"Aawww don’t cry. Don’t cry. Honey shouldn’t cry. We love honey don’t we? Don’t cry. I SAID DON’T CRY!!" 

A squeak escaped your lips at the sudden change in his tone. 

"Centuries! It’s been centuries now! Everytime I get the same reaction. Every. Fucking. Time! Do I deserve it? No! Never did. Look at this,” he pointed towards the scar on his cheek, “You gave this to me in 1936. Same thing then. Didn’t love me. Wanted me to leave. Honey forgets me every time. Every time,” he said slowly, looking down, shaking his head.

1936? You weren’t even born then. Bringing your jacket closer, you tried to control your sobs and reason with him. “I-I can g-get he-help for y-you. Pl-please mis-mister just let m-me g-go. I pr-promise I…”

“YOU PROMISE?!” his voice boomed, “You promised me immortality, and look where it got me!”

Bringing his fingers together, he slouched his shoulders and tried to imitate in a girlish voice, “Your Highness Steve, please trust me. Drink this elixir and you will become immortal forever. Think of all the kingdoms you can rule. You will be the sole emperor of the world! Noting will kill you! I promise.”

Regaining his posture, he screamed at her, “I LOST EVERYTHING! MY KINGDOM, MY WEALTH, MY PEOPLE!! EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. THING! AND YOU,” he held her by her throat, “You, my honey, had the privilege to die in every single lifetime.”

You tried to feebly fight him as he tightened his grip on your throat and lifted you off the ground, “So now tell me, my Queen, my honey, can you make me mortal?”

Your eyes widened in response. “No? Hhmmm. I guessed as much,” he tossed you aside as if suddenly uninterested, “Then it’s time to join your ranks.”

You tried to scurry away, but the sight in front of you stopped you dead in your tracks. You saw hands reaching above, from the _other_ side of the cliff. Multiple sets of hands came into view as they gripped the edge of the cliff, with women hauling themselves onto the ground. These women were neither dead, nor alive, but all of them sported horrible injuries on their bodies. Some had their heads bashed in, others had their limbs cut off, a few were stabbed or shot, but all of them looked at you with fierce intensity. As they stumbled to form a circle around you and Steve, you realised that these women looked a lot like you, only they wore clothes from different eras in time. 

You felt numb, there was no way you would escape this. 

Looking at Steve, you tried to plead with him one last time, “I am so-sorry. Pl-please forgive me.”

He laughed humorlessly, “You always end up apologising." 

Crouching besides you, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears, the action sending a chill up your spine. "I like your face in this lifetime, maybe I will keep it for myself… hhmmm… Must keep Honey’s face for myself. All for us. Only for me…” He kept muttering to himself as he unsheathed his knife. 

To your horror, he cut a deep cut right before your ears and started _peeling_ your skin with his knife. 

The full moon stood witness to your pain as you finally breathed your last, and joined the ranks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Description - Detective Okoye finds out more about King Steven's past as you are subjected to further torture
> 
> Warning - Horror, mutilation, torture, Dark!Steve
> 
> I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

Detective Okoye sipped coffee as she examined the crime scene report on her desk. It had been more than 2 months since you had been the victim of the heinous crime. She narrowed her eyes as she read the report for probably the millionth time. The case was littered with problems.

First of all, they couldn't find your dead body. They had searched across the city and the state and had turned up empty handed. 

Secondly, the forensic team had secured two different sets of fingerprints from the crime scene atop the cliff. One set belonged to you, the other, your killer. However, their database couldn't match the fingerprints with any US citizen and known terrorists. Even the CIA, FBI and even the Interpol turned up empty-handed. 

The team also found paper-thin scraps of ash scattered across the cliff and the road. Their scientists could not make sense of that either. 

Lastly, they had absolutely no leads to chase down your attacker. The security cameras hadn't caught anything. There were no witnesses, except the one statement from Chris Evans, who continuously rambled on about the deep scar on the attacker's face. 

"You need to stop reading that file Oko. You are not a part of the investigation anymore," Detective Natasha's voice broke through Okoye's thoughts.

* * *

"I can't let it go Nat," Okoye responded, rubbing her forehead, "I keep thinking that I have missed something."

Nat closed the file and sat on the desk, "Look, I know it's frustrating to break your perfect record. But sometimes there are cases which you just can't solve."

Okoye sighed, "10 years Nat. I have solved every single case in the last decade. No matter if it was a simple house robbery or taking down a drug cartel, I have always cracked all of my cases. And now this?" Okoye slammed down her coffee mug in disgust, "I have been assigned desk duty because I couldn't solve this case."

"You know it's temporary till things dial down a bit," Nat tried to reason, "When the girlfriend of an international superstar goes missing, his fans and the media tend to erupt," Nat placed a hand on her shoulder, "You will be back soon Oko."

"Evans hasn't received a call for ransom?" Okoye inquired.

Nat shook her head, "I don't think she is alive Oko."

🌑

You opened your eyes, the whispers in the dark playing on a loop in your head, _"What does he want?" , "Ya no puedo soportar esto" , "Who is she?" , "Quiero ir a casa" , "I make my most humble apology" ,"Nobis auxilium Dominus!"_ You only recognized English, the rest of the few languages alien to your ears. Besides you, you could see the terrified figures of ancient women who resembled your features.

You tried to speak to them, but no sound escaped your orifice. You were frozen, but were yet somehow still moving. The edge of your skin, along with others, shed like thin layers of ash, only to be replenished by the wind. 

It's this what death felt like? Were you a ghost?

The voices in your head suddenly went silent as everyone heard the despicable cackle of the man who commanded all of you.

🌑

It was dusk when Okoye walked towards the National History museum with her 5-year-old daughter in tow. She waved when she saw Carol with her son.

"Thank you so much for coming along!" Carol grinned as they hugged, "David was dying to look at the new exhibit."

Okoye brushed her off, "Please there's no need to thank me. Aurelia is just as much of a history enthusiast as David."

They joined the long line of people, mostly parents with their kids, waiting for their turn to enter. "I had no idea this exhibit was so popular," Okoye admitted as she took in the crowd. 

"Yeah. Ever since the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom, suddenly everyone is a history nerd," Carol commented, "Still, I think it's cool that they found the remnants of an entire kingdom underneath the Texan desert." 

As they entered the museum, both the kids ran off towards the children's section of the exhibit where the tour guide was handing out pamphlets.

Okoye sucked in a deep breath, "Umm Carol, I wanted to talk about the bake sale this Saturday-"

"Yes Maria and I are going to bake lemon squares, chocolate cupcakes and vanilla-strawberry cookie spirals," Carol interrupted her, "I was thinking Maria will present the lemon squares from your end? We will say you are currently caught up with work and handed over your goodies to us," she knowingly winked at Okoye.

Her eyes filled with tears at Carol's kind words, "I am sorry," Okoye barely whispered.

"Oko, you have nothing to apologise for. It's difficult being a single mother and an awesome ass-kicking detective at the same time. Don't be harsh on yourself," Carol tried to console her by rubbing her back, "We love Aurelia. And we love you! It also helps that you gang up with me to prank my wife," Carol beamed.

They strolled in the museum, always keeping an eye on the kids as their activities continued. After about an hour or so, the kids dispersed. "Mommy," Aurelia called out, "did you see the handprint painting?" 

"No baby I didn't," Okoye replied. Her daughter led her by taking two of Okoye's fingers in her small hands. "You should see this mommy! You are a defective. This is also like defective work."

Okoye couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's innocence, "That's right baby, I am a defective."

She picked her up when they reached the fingerprint portion of the exhibit. Aurelia pointed out to one set of fingerprints, "See? Just like you explained," she clapped her hands once for impact. 

Okoye chuckled, kissing her daughter's forehead. She looked at the various sets of fingerprints. Most of them were unnamed, except three. One belonged to the King's right hand man called Buchanan, the other to the Queen named Luna and finally, the King himself, Steven Grant. 

Okoye stared at Steve's fingerprints. There was something eerily familiar about them. She stared harder, trying to identify them when suddenly, realisation hit her like an iceberg. 

Could it be? No it was impossible. But the intricate pattern of the fingerprints undoubtedly matched the ones in her file! 

She immediately unlocked her phone and compared the two images. They were identical! Okoye dialled Natashas's number, informing her of the development. "I will be there in 20 minutes," she replied.

🌑

Detectives Okoye and Natasha sat across the table from Dr Bruce Banner, the archeologist behind the discovery of the Aveninfin kingdom. It had been three days since Okoye's lead, and now, it seemed they were back to square one. 

It seemed that nobody on Bruce's staff had used the fingerprints to commit the crime. Everybody had airtight alibis, even the doctor himself. 

"I don't know what I can tell you ladies anymore-" Bruce started saying. But Natasha swiftly interrupted him, "Detectives," she spat with authority.

He held up his hands in resignation, "Sorry. Detectives. I have nothing new to share. You guys have been to my house, my lab and my office. You have interrogated my staff and colleagues. I really don't know how can-," he was interrupted again.

"A heinous crime was committed, and," Okoye pointed a finger at him, "fingerprints of your King Steven were found at the crime scene. So you really expect us to believe that he came back from the dead just to murder Chris Evans' girlfriend?"

"Legends share that King Steven never died," Bruce half-smiled at his pathetic joke. "Look, you guys are the detectives. Isn't it your job to," he gestured in a random direction, "detect this?"

"What was the need to even obtain fingerprints from an archeological site?" Okoye inquired.

Bruce looked squarely at her, "Fingerprints help us study human evolution Detective. We were lucky to have found their fingerprints painted on the wall and imprinted in the mudcakes."

"Mudcakes?" Nat cocked an eyebrow.

Bruce took a deep breath, "The people of Aveninfin believed that the dead would find a way back in case the living ever needed them. However, the dead spirits would need to identify their graves and their loved ones. So after the death of any citizen, they would press the deceased palms onto a patch of damp mud, which would then solidify, leaving behind an imprint."

Okoye bit her cheek, "But you just said that King Steven isn't believed to be dead."

Bruce shook his head, "I said _legends_ claimed that. Folk-lore, fairy tales, ancient myth. There's no way to actually verify this."

Natasha checked her watch, "Well, we still have about an hour or so left for this interrogation to end. So why don't you indulge us Doctor?" she requested in her sweet venomous voice.

Rubbing his eyes, Bruce took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, "How much do you remember about the history of Aveninfin from school?" 

Both the women looked at each other. "Wasn't it a kingdom ruined by greed and ambition?" Okoye guessed.

Bruce nodded in response, "The king, Steven Grant, wanted to conquer the entire world just like Alexander had once set out to. In the 17th century, when the kingdom of Aveninfin was at its peak, King Steven married a Sorceress by the name of Luna. It is believed that Queen Luna gained her powers from the moon. A bit Luna-tic, amirite?" Bruce's another lame attempt at a joke was met with stony silence.

He cleared his throat, "So anyways, Queen Luna saw how the kingdom and it's citizens suffered in poverty while the King, his aid Buchanan and the corrupt traders and officers enjoyed the riches. She knew of his ambition to conquer the world and so, she killed him by poisoning him. But, here is where things get interesting."

Bruce shifted in his seat, the excitement in his voice mirroring in his body language, "The Queen didn't account for Buchanan's loyalty. You see, in some iterations of the legend, it is said that the King and Buchanan were lovers, in others, they were mentioned as close comrades. Buchanan was said to be raised by witches, and so, when he realised that the King had been poisoned, he went and dug open his grave to revive the King."

Natasha looked disinterested and Okoye managed to keep a passive expression as Bruce rambled on. "Buchanan apparently gave half of his soul to the King, so that King Steven can live. But this only made matters worse. Now both, the King and Buchanan, existed in the world of the living, and also in the realm of the dead. This place… this-this sweet nexus of two dimensions cursed the beings with unimaginable power, and pain."

Okoye gave Natasha half a smile as the latter yawned, "Let me guess the next part Doctor," Natasha offered, "The King laid waste to the entire kingdom and buried it within the ground where the sun doesn't shine?" 

Deflated, Bruce sank back in his chair, "Yeah."

🌑

You were passing through buildings, cars, houses, trees and God knows what. Suddenly, you came to a stop. You were surprised when you saw King Steve, or " _Conqueror of the Paranormal, Leader of the Occult Study and Summoner of Death, His Majesty King Steven Grant_ " as he liked to call himself, converse with another man. 

This stranger's hair was tied in a small ponytail. His physique was just as massive and looked just as strong as Steve's. 

His magic command wore off just a bit as he was speaking with the stranger. You were able to move your face and a little portion of your limbs. You gasped in your head as you finally took in the condition of the women around you. Some women were missing their palms, feet, or even entire hands and legs. A few had their entire torsos cut so that you could only see their spine connecting their head with their hips. While the face of one woman was absent of her eyeballs, the other one's neck had been chopped off in a gruesome manner.

Steve's power over you started weaning further as he became more agitated in his conversation. Your eyesight became a bit clearer, the shades of black and grey slowly shifting into focus.

You had to find a way out of this prison. By now, you understood that all the women in King Steven's harem had been murdered and kept captive. This could not be death. You didn't want it to be.

Looking downwards at your feet, you noticed the faint wisps of ash detaching from your body and collecting on the ground below. It could easily be confused as dust in a small quantity, but when shed in a larger amount, it _could_ form a trail of sorts...

🌑

**A FEW DAYS** later saw Okoye sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. "Oko," Natasha approached her gently.

"You know, if I had any hair on my head I would be pulling them out right now," Okoye joked miserably. 

"I told you before Oko. Some cases are too twisted to be solved. Do you know how many cases in the US go unsolved? Probably-"

"Wait," Okoye interrupted Natasha, "What did you just say?" 

Natasha looked a bit surprised, "Ummm… Do you know how many cases go unsolved?"

"That's it!" exclaimed Okoye. She rushed towards the Records room of the precinct, with Natasha hot on her heels. "What's 'it'?" she asked.

"We need to check whether these fingerprints have come up in the last 6 months in the unsolvable crimes committed," Okoye explained, "Think about it Nat. Dr Banner told us that they retrieved the prints 6 months ago right? So there has to be-"

Natasha sighed, "Well it is a lead. But…" "But what?" Okoye responded. 

"You are grasping at straws Oko. Don't you think it would have been in the news if a murder went unsolved heart because the prints couldn't be traced? Look I…," Natasha hesitated, "I know you are desperate. Frustrated even. But this has started to affect your health and work and I can't just stand by and be a silent spectator."

"Then don't be one. Join me and help me in solving this," Okoye urged.

Natasha just shook her head, "If… if you don't give up this case Okoye then-"

"Then what _Natasha_?" Okoye almost spat her name.

"I will have to report you," Natasha's threat sounded like a plea.

Okoye squared her shoulders, "After everything we have gone through?"

Natasha looked at her with a painful expression, "Yes. Especially after everything we have gone through. I just cannot let you destroy your career behind one case. You weren't even supposed to interrogate Dr Banner! This… this stops now."

Both the women stared at one another, refusing to back down. Finally, Natasha muttered something under her breath and left the Records room as Okoye kept glaring at her back.

**36 HOURS LATER** , Okoye found a nondescript manila envelope on her desk, buried under her pile of unprocessed files with a note, "Hope this helps! - Peter P." She casually angled her body in a way which hid the contents of the envelope as she opened it. Her eyes widened at the information displayed in front of her.

King Steven's fingerprints were found at crime scenes that dated back all the way to 1915, almost around the time when the police started using science and technology to obtain and analyse fingerprints. 

As she flipped through the pages, she noted the years of the crimes committed. 1915, 1933, 1954, 1974, 1997 and lastly, 2020. A quick mental calculation made her realise that the average number of years between these murders were approximately between 20-22.

But nothing prepared her for what she saw next.

The photographs of all the female victims closely resembled your face. Sure, there was a difference in the colour of their skin, languages and backgrounds. But their facial features were identical. 

Moreover, there was a striking similarity in the way the crime was committed. The women were kidnapped and then disappeared without a trace. 

Okoye sat back in her chair as realisation struck her like a thunderbolt. Could it be? Was there really an undead entity hunting these women? And for what?

🌑

You were moving again. Every part of you was frozen, except the tips of your thumb and forefinger, thanks to King Steve still seething in anger. Rubbing them together furiously, you tried to communicate with others through your mind, urging them to do the same.

It continued for a while when suddenly, you felt yourself freeze completely. 

That disdainful cackle was back in your head, "Hehehehe. Honey wants to shed her skin? HER SKIN!!! Wants to be rescued. RESCUED! Don't like me? ME! Doesn't want skin? SKIN? SKIN! Then I will take it. TAKE IT!"

You felt his shadow push into you with force as your now solid forms collided with the ground. His blade, now shining brighter than the sun, cut into your sides as you silently screamed in agony. 

Pain seared through you as he started peeling the skin from your entire body, only to reveal the ghastly organs beneath. Muscle, bones, veins and all were now on display. Nobody could hear your blood-curdling screams except the women surrounding you, their howls of horror joining yours as once again, you were reminded about who was in charge.

"Need skin," Steve muttered as he kept cutting into you, "Have hands, legs, face, torso, everything. EVERYTHING! Need skin to put her back together. To bring her back. She will breathe. She will be alive. ALIVE!"


End file.
